After a crazy fun day of chasing noodles in Ohira, it was time to get back to Tokyo. We left Ohira at 6pm and were in our various airbnbs in Tokyo at 8pm. I was rooming with a few of my favourite friends and we had a really lovely – though small apartment. We spent a few hours chatting, pregaming, showering, more pregaming and getting ready for what was going to be our big Saturday night partying in Tokyo.

Tokyo was not prepared for how #mirozinjapan were going to party that night.

We got to the meetup point in Roppongi hills at 10/10:30 a bit lit and full of excitement. We walked in our large group to the clubbing area passing the tens of Nigerian club promoters trying to entice us into their different clubs on that strip.

Finally, we found the spot that we would call home for the next few hours. In bold letters, the sign read, “All you can drink at 1000 Yen (~$10)

Unfortunately, it was already 11pm and the all you can drink offer was until 11:30pm. We knew that teamwork would be needed to ensure that our $10 was recouped. All hands on deck!

You get the rum, you the redbulls!! Go! Go! Go!

We got greedy. All ~19 mirozinjapan formed a Henry Ford esque production line from the bar to the table…Every 2 seconds, a drink was being passed down the line to whoever needed it. We realized that we needed a base to operate from/put our drinks. In a fashion that can only be explained by the 1884 Berlin conference and the subsequent Scramble for Africa, we laid claim to various tables – which just like Africa – might have been occupied….Not our shining moment, but half an hour, 10s of drinks to consume between us, we were scrambling and there had to be some casualties. Soon we had a few tables between us and a forest of drinks in front of us.

“It’s not yet 11:30! More – order more drinks!”

And this is why this will go down in history as one of those nights of blurry memories, frantic dancing and pure revelry.

Some of the rest of the night’s activities include going to a bar next door to take shots with Natsuno, spending hours later walking through one of Japan’s funniest supermarkets at 4am– Don Quixote – that sells everything from baby clothes to sex toys to hundreds of flavors of kit-kat (green tea, wasabi etc.)

We are sure that we got home in one piece, because we woke up in our Airbnb the next afternoon- all set for the giant party/picnic Natsuno throws annually for around 200 people in Yoyogi park.

After I wrote an article early last year on the struggles of traveling in Africa on an African passport, I was overwhelmed by the reactions from other Africans who could relate to my experiences.

At the time I was in the process of planning a four-country Francophone West Africa road trip and only sheer wanderlust and love of my continent kept me pushing along to get the visas. Just around that same time, the African Development Bank (AFBD) released its inaugural Africa visa openness report that confirmed it was easier for North Americans and Europeans to travel in Africa than it was for Africans. I was not surprised.

There have been some positive changes in the past year. According to the second edition of the AFDB report, it has become easier within the past year for Africans to travel within the continent. At least a third of African countries have liberalized their visa policies in the past year and this trend is expected to continue. Most African countries have either gone up in the visa openness scores or remained at the same level as before.

Even as visa restrictions are reducing on the continent, there is much to be said about the actual process when one needs a visa.

Other good news is that what the naysayers said would happen with increased intra-African travel (increased crime, terrorism, influx.) has not come to pass. Seychelles—which is classified as a high-income country—has no visa requirements for any Africans and this has been in place for years.

Rwanda, another forerunner in visa openness, offering visa on arrival for almost all African countries, saw a 22% annual growth in African tourists from 2015-2016, but only considered 0.045% of all visitors as suspicious individuals. In 2015, a quarter of all tourists visiting Mauritius were African. Africans are traveling in Africa despite the challenges.

“Kah-ri-ye!!” That is my earliest memory of hearing my English name spoken and it dates to the early 90s on the field at my primary school in Nairobi. Even then, that name felt like an older sibling’s hand-me-downs never quite fitting well.

Carrie.

That was my name, but I never quite knew how to pronounce it. It was there on all my official documents and on the tip of my tongue for whenever I was asked, “What is your Christian name?”

In the naming convention of the Kikuyu people, I as the second daughter of my parents, was named after my maternal grandmother.

“Kah-ri-ye, what a strange name. Where did your cucu get that name from?”

“Missionaries.”

I never gave much thought to why all my classmates in an African country had names such as Rose, Catherine, Jeffrey, Lawrence. All I knew was that these were our Christian names. These names plus our baptism assured us of our place in heaven. It was as simple as that. We needed Christian names.

It is said that the British colonialists decided to give Kenyans Christian names as they could not pronounce our African names. This explanation sounds plausible given they did mispronounce Mt. Kirinyaga as Mt. Kenya. Kenyan Catholics also needed to acquire a European saint’s name in addition to their existing English name during baptism. In the psyche of the Kenyan mind, Christian names came to be seen as formal, official, a sign of being educated, no longer a heathen, saved from one’s primitive nature. Long after the country gained independence, this mentality remained.

Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta (among many other figures), is credited with saying “When the missionaries arrived, the Africans had the land and the missionaries had the Bible. They taught us how to pray with our eyes closed. When we opened them, they had the land and we had the Bible.”

Even after Kenya gained independence, we remained strong custodians of the religion they left us and the names that came with following this religion.

Many years later, I went to the US to study. The Africans I met, particularly many of the Nigerians, instantly made me start questioning all I had grown to believe was normal. Omoshalewa, Olayemi. I would introduce myself to other Africans and wait for the moment when they would say their “Christian” name, but this moment never came. I remember that sudden realization that there were other black Africans such as myself roaming the world with no European names. Did my Nigerian Christian friends know that they were saying goodbye to heaven by refusing to take up proper “Christian” names—even if they did go to chapel every Sunday?

We all know that you are not meant to play with your food, but there are rare exceptions to this rule. Running noodles in Japan counts as one such example. No better way to explain this, than to have you watch it for yourself.

Disclaimer: No food was wasted in this game. All noodles, tomatoes and cucumbers were eventually eaten after the game.

All 18 - 19 of us MirozinJapan were going to stay with different families during our time in Ohira. We were staying with 4 different families. Afternoon nap time was amazing and was to prepare us for what Natsuno had described as a night of feasting in each of our individual homes. When it was dinner time at Natsuno's, she told us to dress in pyjamas, "because we are going to eat a lot and you need space."

When we got downstairs, we realized that Natsuno had not been joking. There was so many different types of food and at least 7 different types of alcohol - including 3 types of sake. Her family was not playing games.

Family time was amazing. We ate to our hearts' content and drank to our fill. Natsuno's dad played the guitar for us, we looked at photo albums - made fun of Natsuno's childhood pics and had merry night. After all this we slept very soundly till the next morning.

The following day some of the folks went to tour the neighboring villages in the historical area of Shirakawago. My backpack decided it was done with life and I spent some time back at the house sewing it- tacking stitches of course – the one stitch I still remember from years gone of home science classes….[I hated home science.] The stitches were strong enough though and the bag managed to survive for the rest of our trip.

Later in the day we went to Takayama. They had all sorts and special sushi and we indulged in those. In the evening we took a night bus to Tokyo. We got to Tokyo the next morning and took a bus to Ohira – Natsuno’s hometown. In Ohira, we were going to spend two nights as homestays with Natsuno’s family and the families of her friends.

We got to Ohira and immediately went to Natsuno’s primary school. It was a lovely day there with all the kids. Japanese children have to be the most disciplined children I’ve ever met. The first thing I noticed was that the children did not have uniforms on. For some reason, I just assumed that such levels of discipline had to go hand in hand with uniforms:-) . Kenyan upbringing….Natsuno had told us quite a bit about how Japanese childhood education has a major emphasis on discipline, obedience and order. She remembered weeks spent learning how to bow perfectly. The day started off with joining the kids for their PE class. Before they began working out, they formed neat little squads who walked around the field picking up all stones to reduce chances of injury. It worked like clockwork. The children were extremely friendly. We also learnt that they are not punished in the conventional sense of the word. If they do something wrong, they are told to reflect on what they’d done. Why was I not educated in a Japanese primary school? I was a product of the “Spare the rod, spoil the child” primary school system. We then joined a large dance class – the instructor’s moves were kinda basic though:-). We visited different classes one by one – labs, classes used for teaching Kanji – the Japanese writing system that has 3 variations and requires one to know at least 3500 Kanji (characters) to be considered proficient in it…..Cramming/constant repetition is how it’s taught….Cramming…now this I can relate to…

One of our Kenyan travel buddies was our translator. She’s amazing. She speaks Kipsigis, Kiswahili, French, German, Italian, English, Korean and Mandarin. She went to UPenn for undergrad to study Mechanical Engineering and was now off to Munich for her Masters in Robotics. Basically, she’s a genius. Lorna was the reason we were able to understand most of what we were being told during the tour.

Lunchtime came and all the fun began. The children were broken up into committees – blackboard committee, lunch committee etc. The lunch committee was very impressive. Quite quickly, they had on their aprons, headscarves etc. and were serving out lunch to everyone. It was delicious – rice, chicken curry, some yummy fruit and desert. Those kiddie portions left me starving though…..Immediately after lunch, all the kids pulled out their toothbrushes and began brushing their teeth – a process that lasted at least 10-15 minutes. I had seen Natsuno and our other Japanese friend, Aya, do this every evening. They would walk around the house doing stuff while brushing their teeth for what seemed to be half an hour. Turned out they learnt how to do this in primary school. Immediately after that was cleaning time. All the kids – just like clockwork – got to cleaning their class together. Small kids with brooms, mops – working as if they enjoyed it.

By afternoon, we were so beat and needed to go to our new homes to crash. It was great though spending the day with those lovely kids.

News that Chris Cornell had passed on hit hard. Music lovers worldwide felt this loss. As a Kenyan music lover, I was not affected any less. It got me reflecting on how music traverses borders and how artists have fans in countries they might not even know about.

In my late teens, Wednesdays at one of Kenya's most popular clubs - Carnivore - was the place to be. Wednesday was rock night. If the following day was a public holiday, then that Wednesday was "super-rock." Thousands of Kenyans would flock to Carnivore to dance the night away to the likes of Nirvana, Linkin Park, Puddle of Mudd, Hoobastank, Evanescence etc.

These past weekend, as I played my Chris Cornell favourites on repeat, Like a stone, I am the highway, Black hole sun etc, I wonder if anyone (outside of Kenya) knows what a following rock had in Kenya in the late 90s and early 2000s. Saturdays we woke up early to listen to Rick Dees and the weekly top 40s. I was not impressed when I did move to the US and could not find people who knew this show. I felt slight judgement for my love of Shania Twain. In Kenya, Shania Twain was counted as rock. I recall dancing on stage in Carnivore to Shania Twain's I'm gonna getcha good, and feeling as if like would be complete only when I got to meet Shania and party with her.

Those days, my musical tastes were simpler than when I moved to the US. Music was music to me – I listened to whatever pleased my ears. We never had to reflect on whether our tastes were black enough - I was born and raised in a country of majority black people where people sang along to Kenny Rogers songs with as much passion as if it was our national anthem. Sometimes a Kenny Rogers, Charlie Pride, Dolly Parton, Jim Reeves or even Skeeter Davis song plays and I get nostalgic. I am back as a child sitting in our living room - a record on the LP, my father strumming along his guitar, my mother singing with as much passion as if she is auditioning for a church choir position.

I recall the day almost 10 years back when my sister called me laughing, “NPR did a show on country music in Kenya.” We laughed about it. NPR was surprised to find out that Kenyans are crazy about country music, while I was surprised to find out that they did not know Kenny Rogers is from my village – or at least we act as if he is. Did they know that Kenyans used to talk with excitement about the day they get to the US and will go to Dallas? My first time in Texas, I remember feeling as if I had been cheated my whole life – where were all the cowboys with cowboy hats and spurs on their riding boots? Did they know that older Kenyan men wear cowboy hats almost religiously during important functions? Have they ever seen the glazed over looks of the folks in Nairobi meat-eating joints when the “one-man-guitar” guy belts out Kenny Rogers, “Coward of the county” or Dolly Parton’s “Coat of many colours.” I am from the country where a “traditional” song that was recorded in the 1950s in Kenya and was about a supposed mythical creature that was half-man, half-antelope and was called Chemirocha, has actually turned out to really have been an ode to the American country musician Jimmie Rodgers. My people have been Kenyanizing other musical genres for a long time.

Music does traverse borders – right next to all the country music LPs that my parents had, were Boney M, Michael Jackson, Abba, Orchestra Baobab (Senegalese), Mbilia Bel (Congolese), Nana Mouskori (Greek) Miriam Makeba…but country music reigned supreme for my parents and their generation, in the same way that rock reigned supreme for a certain part of my generation.

And that’s the beauty of art – and music in particular – it’s ability to evoke emotions in listeners even when it’s language, context or setting might not be understood. When we listen to music, it’s more than just a sensory experience – we recall the first time we heard a certain song, we feel the emotions we felt at that moment, we are transported back in time, we are nostalgic for everything that is connected to that particular song – the age we were at, the frame of mind, the people we were with, the stories around that moment.

And so this is a Kenyan’s heartfelt farewell to Chris Cornell....My own rendition of I am the highway.

Early in the morning we left the theme park public bath we had slept at and went to the Nagoya castle. It was a very lovely castle. Shortly after that we traveled by car to a city called Gifu to participate in a boys’ festival called Takebana Matsuri. We walked a lot, tried all sorts of delicious foods and spent a leisurely day walking through the streets to different parts of the carnival. There were some huge fascinating traditional cars being pushed around during the festival. We asked one of the guys pushing the carts, what the significance of this particular festival was, and he said he had no idea. That was quite amusing – given he was pushing this gigantic car for the festival. In the evening, we drove to the village of Shirakawago. On our way there we finally found a shop that sold the famous Babyfoot. We stocked up on that and food too.

Early in the morning we spent some time working with the sweetest old ladies who had a crafts shop and taught us to make table mats. Given language barriers, a lot of the work was done in silence. It was lots of fun just watching, imitating (as best as we could) and making table mats that were not too terrible looking.

After this we drove to the Japanese alps and took the ropeway to the mountain top. We had not really realized how cold some parts of Japan would be. You should have seen #mirozinjapan freezing as we prepared to take a group pic on the top of the mountain.

Our next stop was Roten Bura – natural outdoor hot springs. It was a beautiful sight seeing these natural hot pools in the middle of the freezing mountains. We started off at one pool that was a bit enclosed between cliffs – this was the women’s hot spring. There was also another enclosed one elsewhere for men and a huge exposed one for both men and women. There were naked men sitting around with a small towel placed on their crotch’s for modesty’s sake. Our large group eventually ended up in the outdoor hot spring as that had the most lovely view….but we kept our costumes on;-)

Shortly after this we went searching for cherry blossoms. We eventually did find a tree of two that was still blossoming. They were beautiful. We went back to our lovely home in the UNESCO village of Shirakawago and partied till 3am. Japanese drinking games are lots of fun!

We left Mt. Fuji to take the Shinkansen – the world’s fastest train to get us to Nagoya. We took a bus for 45 minutes to get to the Shinkansen then one train for an hour before getting on the shinkansen for another hour. It was exciting seeing and being on the shinkansen, but there was an overwhelming feeling of hunger, exhaustion and crankiness in the group given we had been rushing everywhere since 4:30am – with our giant backpacks. We got to Nagoya and even by night, it was clear that this was a very pretty, cosmopolitan city. We left our backpacks in the train station lockers and walked around for about 20 minutes to find a restaurant that had enough space for us. We got into a cute little place and I was ready to devour whatever was on the menu. My face fell when I realized it was a koroga joint – “all this hunger and you want me to cook my own food? This is how I will end up with tapeworms, cause I can’t even be bothered to make sure the meat cooks well. I tried to not be whiny, but that level of hunger turns me into a gremlin. After quite a few batches of koroga, I felt as if there was still a hole in my stomach. I was really tempted to look for a mcdonalds or burger king after dinner, but the need for sleep eventually overpowered the need for food.

That night we were to sleep in a giant public bath (onsen) that Natsuno had described as a theme park of public baths. She was not joking. Given the intensity of the day’s activities, some in our group decided to check into a hotel for the night. I was very tempted, but in retrospect I’m happy I stayed on for the night’s adventures. We arrived and this onsen looked like a hotel except with everyone dressed in matching pink or blue pyjamas. We got to the reception and were each given our essentials – pink pyjamas for girls, blue for guys, towels, soap etc. We explored a bit and this place was some sort of lucid dream. There were game rooms. Restaurants. Cybercafes. Cinema halls. Huge public sleeping rooms. Some more private sleeping rooms – still for large groups. Some sleeper beds with TVs. Spas. Aromatherapy rooms. It was like a mall except this was 1am and everyone was in the same matching pyjamas. There were young people, old people, toddlers, teenagers. We finally went to the baths, but first passed by the giant locker rooms. This was hi-tech. We of course started off in the public showers where people soap themselves sitting on buckets then rinse off before going into the baths. We got into the huge area – the size of half a football pitch with a huge number of different giant baths. There was a greenish bath. A reddish bath. A bluish bath. The main differentiator was the essential oils in each of them. They smelled lovely. This time, the water was just the right temperature as opposed to the bath in Tokyo that tried to boil us alive. I heard that there was even an outdoor tub overlooking the lovely city, but did not wake up early enough the next day to explore it. We went to sleep in one of the giant rooms with the reclining chairs around 2am. Our room had around 30 or so people. There were so many people snoring that night. Eventually sleep got the better of us. We were up at 8am for another busy, but fun day.

“The folks woke up at 4.30am (I uncovered Lorna's futon to wake her up....gomen ne haha), folded futon and caught 3 trains and 1 metro in Tokyo to go to busy Tsukiji Fish Market. Just before the market, we saw bankers cleaning the street in front of a brunch of a bank and Patricia wondered why they don't hire cleaners (lol welcome to Japan). We wandered around the tiny streets in the market, and had sushi for breakfast. Then we rushed to Tokyo Station to catch a bus to go to a lake near Mt. Fuji, but we were rushing so much that Nawal fell down on a zebra crossing ("yako" Nawal, but that was a funny moment!). We were so lucky to see beeeeautiful view of Fuji.....and Ciku and Mou Na learned how to ride a bicycle. On our bus ride back, Nyamwathi made new friends. Then, Sir-Ben Ngene had the moment of excitement - Shinkansen ride to Nagoya. One of the folks lost her Shinkansen ticket, but JR found it on the platform (#japaneseefficiency). We then had local Nagoya barbecue for dinner, and caught another train (so many train rides today) to head to a "theme park of public bath." On our way there, Edel got her dream item: a Japanese mask! She put it on and became a proper nihonjin (Japanese person). On the local train, a cute drunk Japanese woman kept talking with us. This drunk woman took off her artificial eye lashes, and asked Péchou to exchange her braided hair with the used artificial eye lashes. lol By the time we got to the public bath theme park, we were all tired and ready to fall asleep, but Ciirù opened her eyes because she got excited to see the crazy things in the theme park. From the morning to the night, people kept asking us where the hell we all came from ("Where are you guys from?" "We are from 6 different African countries." "Oh, sodesuka (I see). Welcome to Japan!”

We woke up at 4:30am after sleeping at 12:30am. I woke up remembering our evening bath at the public bath (yes, you shower in your birthday suit with a roomful of other strangers also in their birthday suits....then you all get into a giant tub and soak..).Separate rooms for men and women. We packed our bags. We were fortunate enough to get a chance to leave anything we didn’t want to travel with at the temple, to pick up later. We left the temple at 6am and took 3-4 different trains to the fish market. It was the cleanest fish market I have ever been to. You could close your eyes and actually forget that you were in a fish market. It didn’t have any fishy smells. We walked around a bit then finally got into one of the restaurants to eat sushi and sashimi. That was honestly the most delicious, freshest sushi and sashimi I have tasted in my life. It was so unfortunate though that we were running late and had to finish that breakfast and my beer in a rush to make it in time for our bus to Mount Fuji. We had a crazy rush to get to our bus. The backpacks we were carrying plus the fact that we had slept for only 4 hours and been up and about from 4:30am made the rush even more frantic. At the different train stations, we were running up and down stairs with our ginomous backpacks. Finally we got on our 3 hour bus to Mt. Fuji. I slept for almost 2 hours of that journey.

The plan at Mt. Fuji was to rent bicycles and go on a 1 hour scenic ride round the lake by the mountain – 3.3kms. The view was so beautiful from the moment we got there. I only learnt how to ride a bicycle in early 2016 and my cycling endeavors to date had been limited to the office parking lot and the backyard of our house. This was essentially going to be my first time riding my bicycle in the real world. Starting is always the hardest. I have a good 10 seconds where it looks as if I have equal probability of ending up flat on the ground as of actually getting the bike to pick up speed. Once I do confirm that I am moving, I freak out when I move too fast. I freak out when I see a stone in my path. I freak out when I see a slightly downhill path ahead. I freak out when I see a couple pushing a pram slowly in front of me. I freak out when a dog stands in my path. In short, I am an amazing rider if I am alone on a completely flat course with no unexpected events e.g. a leaf falling off a tree. Yep!

So the group started off. It was great to be cycling with people as I instantly felt that I cannot let it be seen just how rudimentary my cycling skills were. I had to prove that I did not need to employ my flintstones way of stopping the bike with my feet. Yes, I know how to use my brakes. I needed to prove that I didn’t need to walk my bicycle down inclines. I could ride and put just the right amount of pressure on the brakes to ensure I didn’t speedily go tumbling to my death at the base of a cherry tree.

Eventually I lost track of the group cause I decided to go at my pace (a snail’s pace.) I actually had a wonderful ride. The track itself was beautiful – extremely scenic. Babies on strollers crossing the path were few and far in between. I got lost and ended up going round the course 1.5 times – without falling once. I was extremely proud of myself.

We still had a bit of time by Mt. Fuji. I joined everyone else at the resort. They had been extremely welcoming – storing our giant backpacks for free, letting us use the wifi. We then took a bus to get us to the train station in which we would get on the world’s fastest train – the Shinkansen.

The day was only halfway done, but we had already had lots of adventures!

I had been fascinated with the concept of onsens/public baths since the first time I heard about them. You’re telling me everyone just gets naked and bathes together? If I was going to get into a public bath in Japan, it was definitely going to be with mirozinjapan- that way in case of any staring, the stares would be shared. In the words of my lovely Senegalese friend, “Yeah. Everyone is naked, but what if this is the first time they are seeing a black butt?” It was an important point to consider – you could all be naked, but some of you might be more of a novelty than others:-). My other friend did have some interesting concerns, “You know in Senegalese culture it’s considered bad luck to see someone’s butts. I don’t know if I am ready for all this bad luck.”

After the tea ceremony we all dressed up in kimonos and did amusing photo shoots. In our attempts to look dainty and demure as the Japanese ladies who had led us through the tea ceremony, we sometimes ended up having pics that made us look like sheep about to get slaughtered. FAIL.

Natsuno had managed to get media to join us for the day. They were fascinated about this group of 18 or so mirozinjapan who were traveling together and wanted to hear about our first impressions of Japan. Later we sat with Jokan – our monk friend, drank tea and chatted a lot about his path to becoming a monk. He was so interesting and calm. We all enjoyed being with him.

We walked half an hour away for dinner at a local restaurant. Before getting in to the restaurant, we took off our shoes. This would become the norm in most of the restaurants we went to in Japan. I found it strangely calming – as if you were entering an African home and had to take off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. It made the restaurants seem more intimate – like someone’s house rather than a hotel. The dinner was delicious and we had yummy sake after that. Gift giving was very big in Japan and Natsuno had reminded us to bring enough trinkets to give as gifts as everyone else would alsobe giving us gifts. We were each given delicious boxes of wafers and in return we gave an assortment of our gifts that represented the diversity of countries we represented. After dinner we walked back to the temple and picked our bath essentials. We got to the public bath house. We walked into a giant room (women-only) where a few naked women were sitting on green buckets soaping themselves. We followed suit – soaped ourselves sitting on the green buckets – still not sure why this has to be done seated. (Maybe it's also bad luck in Japanese culture to moon people?) We rinsed off a bit then jumped into the giant bathtub. I believe that the bath had been set up to boil lobsters – cause that water temperature. I was only able to stay inside for five minutes before I started to fear for my life. I got out of the bath and had to drink lots of water to rehydrate. We wore our pyjamas at the bath house and walked back to the temple in our pjs. We got to the temple – made our futons for sleeping then proceeded upstairs for a session of zen meditation. It was quite relaxing. I believe most people were already half asleep five minutes in – after our long day. It was quite hilarious when in the midst of chanting, the monk hit the gong. Some people almost fell off their seats as they were already drifting off to sleep. We slept at 12:30am and were up by 4:30am for an adventure filled day that would start off with eating the freshest sushi and sashimi at Tsukiju fish market.

So Natsuno happened to go to school with the coolest, nicest, sweetest guy who later became a Buddhist monk. His temple was not too far from Tokyo and we would be spending the day and night there. We left our hostel at 9am, caught quite a few trains. One of the trains was on the chuo line – infamously known as the Japanese suicide line because of how many people commit suicide on that route. Natsuno also told us about another train line called the “groping line” where creepy men like to touch young women. Creeeeeeeppy.

We finally made it to the temple right around lunch time. We first got to meet Jokan – Natsuno’s monk friend. He was very welcoming and gave us a brief introduction to the temple before bringing us to join the rest of the group of mostly ladies (both young and old) who would later guide us through the tea ceremony, help us get into our kimonos and teach us the importance of each of the ceremonies.

We all sat down on the ground to eat from the low tables. Lunch was delicious noodles – we were instructed to eat them with quite a bit of slurping noises to show we were enjoying it. It was quite liberating to break this eating norm we had grown up with – of not making loud noises with your food. Soon we were all having a blast. The older women did not really speak English, but we were all able to communicate with hand gestures, smiles and a few words that transcended language – me Kenya, her Ivory Coast:-). The ladies were all magnificently dressed in their kimonos and so graceful even as they ate. After a few minutes, my thighs started killing me. Sitting on the ground in semi-tight angles is a learned art. I kept on shifting around to get rid of the pins and needles on my feet.

After eating we were split into groups for the tea ceremony. Tea ceremonies are steeped in Buddhism and is an art of performance with certain steps that have to be followed. Silence and paying attention is a very important aspect of tea ceremonies. We each removed our shoes and were led to thin pillows where we would kneel or sit on depending on the part of the ceremony. The hosts/ladies who would be serving us tea entered the tea room and welcomed each guest. The hosts then proceeded to ritually cleanse each utensil with such elegance – the tea bowls, the whisks, the tea scoops etc. in front of us and with very precise motions. The tea was then prepared in front of us.

Slowly we were each served in turn – the lady serving would bow and the guest would bow receiving the tea. Before sipping from the cup, each guest would turn to the guest next to them and raise the bowl (this is a gesture of respect to the host.) The guest would then rotate the bowl, take a sip and thank the host for the tea. This process would be repeated till all 7 or 8 in our group had each had a sip.

After this we were all individually given our tea with a few more formalities. We were also given some delicious confectioneries to take with the tea. I might just be imagining it, but that tea felt really special compared to other teas I had drunk as I got to fully concentrate on just enjoying the tea. The peace and solitude of getting to eat or drink something without having to talk, think etc. I was beginning to understand the magic of silence. We live in a very noisy world and this noise distracts us from enjoying simple pleasures.

After all the guests have taken tea, the host cleaned the utensils in preparation for putting them away. The hosts then collected the utensils. In total our tea ceremony lasted around 1.5 hours though I’ve heard they can last up to 4 hours.

Luckily for us, the hostel was only a few minutes walk from our final train station once we got to Tokyo. When you have an 18kg backpack on your back, this is a very important fact. The hostel staff were really friendly, but these hostels had the tiniest rooms I had ever seen in my life. I had heard a lot about how efficient the Japanese are in using space, but I was not mentally prepared for those tight spaces. Add our huge number, the size of our backpacks etc. to the situation and you got claustrophobic very quickly. We were all extremely hungry. We found a noodle place next door to our hostel. We were fortunate that one of the people who worked at the hostel had joined us at the noodle place. There was a vending machine that everyone needed to make their selection from. Funny, but this is it the moment I realized language would be a problem for us in Japan. Because everything is written in Japanese script, it’s impossible to use google translate as one would do for unknown words in the roman alphabet (most written languages.)

The 7 of us had a wonderful dinner. The noodles were quite delicious. Around 4am we were back in the hostel and passed out.

The next morning I was strangely up by 10am, despite having set my alarm for 2pm. We went exploring our neighborhood with the rest of the team. We explored tea shops, cute shops selling all sorts of delicious looking stuff. The highlight of our walk was finding the 100 yen shop. Suddenly when everything in a shop costs around $1, everything becomes a must-have…Even when that needs to fit in your 18kg backpack:-). We grabbed lunch from a cute little place that had a buffet and sold each container by weight…of course this #miroinjapan filled her container with shrimp and all other stuff that is usuallypricey. Veggies for who? Not when a pound of veggies and a pound of shrimp cost the same.

On our way home I instantly spotted a happy hour place. Even with my non-existent Japanese, Ican spot images showing buy one get one beer free from 7-9pm. I was very excited to have our first happy hour in the actual Tokyo – as opposed to Tokyo restaurant in Nairobi. Unfortunately the place was too full to accommodate a group as large as ours. We ended up finding another bar and drinking sake. Jetlag was setting in. We were home by 9pm. One of my most exciting purchases from the 100 yen shop was a foot mask that promised to reveal the inner princess hiding under the scales on the sole of my feet. Everyone said that the masks in Japan are amazing. I soaked my feet for half an hour in the mask expecting to see miracles in the morning. I hate to say it, but not all masks are created equal. I woke up to the same reptilian appendages. We would later learn that for chapped feet, there is only one solution – the revolutionary babyfoot, designed in Japan – check out the comments on the youtube video – 99% of them are people reminiscing about the absolute pleasure of peeling off the skin from your feet like an orange….sigh..Good times.. One of my our mirozinjapan – a Moroccan who lives in France had said amazing things about it. We were not disappointed when we did eventually find it weeks later. As a sidenote, if you are in Dakar and want Baby foot, Mouna sells them at her store – Massala shop – online and in Yoff. Highly recommend it. There is something so therapeutic about watching the dry skin from your feet peel off like a snake’s skin to reveal your inner baby foot…..sigh….I think I need another round of babyfoot.

It is almost mandatory that all my trips start with me running around. I had a late afternoon flight to Japan. Of course I did not take the day off. I woke up super early to get my work done. Even though these days I have waaaay more leave days than when I was in consulting, I still tend to be a hoarder with my days. I continue to live a Candy Crush life with my leave days – only using them when I absolutely must. Nguhi, see me looking at you and your Candy Crush leave days life:-). I will rationalize it – yeah. I am sure I can finish sending off that document – on the runway (a la Nungari during the Rwanda trip in 2011 or so. A story for another day.)

I slept at 5am and was up early to finish work. I hastily packed from 1:30 – 2:15pm. I consider myself a semi-seasoned backpacker. As such I know the essentials to pack. What really holds me back is the stupid stuff I add. I confess that I added around 2kgs of necklaces, bangles, rings and earrings to my 16kg backpack bringing it to an epic 18kgs (of which 2kgs was frivolity at its best.) I got to the airport. My backpack was weighed and that’s when I confirmed that it was indeed 18kgs. Ciku! Oops I did it again. I always pack my backpack with the best of intentions, but then end up adding jewelry, nail polish, lipsticks en masse. This is the monkey on my back. I think it might be a demon. The demon of packing unnecessary stuff.

At the airport I started bumping into some of the other #mirozinjapan – some of whom I knew quite well (close friends and colleagues and others I was meeting for the first time.) Our excitement was palpable. “It’s finally here! Japan, here we come!”

“How heavy is your backpack?”

“You checked your backpack in? What if it gets lost?”

[Good question – Dear Jesus, do not let my backpack get lost. I don’t think they have mitumba in Tokyo or Toi market. I will be rewinding my one outfit for 3 weeks.]

It was a 3 hour flight to Addis with a brief layover followed by an 8 hour flight to Hong Kong, but we didn’t have to get off the plane. We arrived in Tokyo to the friendliest immigration officials. Too many experiences have always left me tentative at such interactions – waiting for it to be a hassle, waiting to be pulled aside on a technicality etc. So when I walk through immigration without any problems, that is worth mentioning. All our bags also made it to Tokyo! We had landed at 8pm and of course none of us had Yen. All the exchange bureaus had closed. We were wondering how we would get money to pay for our train to our home for the night. After a while we found a vending machine that took your dollars and gave you yen. Amazing, right?

We found yet another vending machine that sold sim cards…What is this country where things work like clockwork? We were all impressed, but trying to play it cool. Of course we have vending machines in Africa for changing money and buying sim cards! Mschew! Where do you think we are from? The fifth world? No my friends, we are from the third world:-).

Finally we got our train tickets and jumped into the train. It was to take us 90 minutes to get to our stop. I was assigned as the one to be on the look-out for our stop. I was vigilant for the first 60 minutes, but then I started getting distracted by the bright lights and lovely shops outside the train.

Suddenly I was daydreaming, smiling to myself, “Japan, Japan, Japan. I am in Japan.” Listening to the rest of the crew chatting and laughing when I looked out and saw we were almost pulling out of our train station, “Jujo!”

“Guys! Jujo! Jujo! We’re here! Quick quick! Get your bags.”

It was mad rush as everyone grabbed their backpacks to get out of the train before the train doors closed. We all made it out and spent a good two minutes dying of laughter about how we almost missed our stop.

April/May2016. We were going to spend an epic 2-3 weeks traveling through Japan. We? You’re curious who we were. A group of 18 miroz who took to calling ourselves #mirozinjapan and our amazing friend and tour guide the one Natsuno Shinagawa. A few books should be written about Natsuno. She’s a sort of urban legend – except she’s real. She once traveled overland, including hitchhiking, solo from Jo’burg to Cairo for 8 months (although according to her, “it is not possible to go anywhere “solo” in Africa” You will always find company). When studying in a prestigious Japanese university, she made a name for herself by becoming the first student to request an “exchange” to Makerere. She has been a street hawker in Sudan, Senegal and Djibouti selling bic pens with cutout old/rejected ID pics of her and her Korean friend (hey, you gotta add value to your products when selling them, right?). She credits getting her previous job to going to see a voodoo man in Benin. Her favourite places on earth include North Korea, Iran, Somaliland, Papua New Guinea (Yes, she has visited all these places and many more.) She organizes guided trips to Somaliland and Eritrea. She barely needs sleep, parties like a rockstar and is extremely hardworking. Yes, Natsuno is real.

So us 18 #mirozinjapan knew we were up for a crazy, fun, wonderful trip with Natsuno as our guide in her home country. The travelers were from Kenya, Cote d’ivoire, Morocco, Senegal and Uganda. Natsuno was extremely organized and not a single #miroinJapan was denied a visa. This is saying a lot when you are a Passport undesirable. The visa process for Japan was actually quite simple as long as we had all the needed documentation. Natsuno made sure we had all of this – including email threads that proved we knew her to ensure we were not going to become #miromailorderbridesinJapan. The itinerary was already the stuff dreams are made of.

‘Nuff said….The itinerary – as sent by Natsuno…..

Group A: April 30 – May 5. Recommended for those who do not have time, but who want to visit photogenic places.

Traditional architecture: ★★★☆☆

City life: ★☆☆☆☆

Interaction with people: ★★☆☆☆

Cultural activities: ★★☆☆☆

Nature: ★★★★☆

Group B: April 30 – May 7. Recommended for those who efficiently want to visit both touristy places and off-the-beaten destinations.

Traditional architecture: ★★★☆☆

City life: ★☆☆☆☆

Interaction with people: ★★★★☆

Cultural activities: ★★★★☆

Nature: ★★★★★

Group C: April 30 – May 10: Recommended for those who want to “do” things, rather than just “seeing.”

Traditional architecture: ★★★★☆

City life: ★★★☆☆

Interaction with people: ★★★★★

Cultural activities: ★★★★★

Nature: ★★★★★

Group D: April 30 – May 13: Recommended for those who want to become Japanese.

Traditional architecture: ★★★★★

City life: ★★★★★

Interaction with people: ★★★★★

Cultural activities: ★★★★★

Nature: ★★★★★

Group E: May 7 – 13. Recommended for those who want to get a PhD degree on a subject called Tokyo.

Traditional architecture: ★★★☆☆

City life: ★★★★★

Interaction with people: ★★☆☆☆

Cultural activities: ★★★☆☆

Nature: ★☆☆☆☆

April 30: Arrival in Tokyo. Depending on your arrival time and how tired you are, we will stroll around Tokyo.

May 1: We will head to my friend's temple, and take a nap first. After lunch at the temple, we will learn to wear kimono and experience the traditional tea ceremony. We will then learn about the Japanese Buddhism and spirituality in the early evening, and all head to the public bath nearby. after taking a bath, we will do s zen meditation, and head to a traditional restaurant nearby for dinner. We will sleep in the temple at night.

May 2: We will go to Tsukiji fish market super early in the morning, and have the best sushi in the world for breakfast. Then we will leave Tokyo early in the morning and depart for Nagoya via Mt. Fuji. We will do a mini hike near the beautiful mountain. We will then catch "shinkansen", the fastest train in the world to head to Nagoya, and will be met by Kohei, a very good friend of mine who is in love with Africa. We will all have local Nagoya food for dinner and sleep in the city.

May 3: We will visit Nagoya castle. we will then see a traditional matsuri (festival), Takebana Matsuri in Gifu. Then we will drive to Shirakawago Village, a UNESCO heritage traditional village. We will sleep in ryokan style guesthouse.

May 4: We will stroll around the village a bit, and drive to the Japan Alpes. We will take "rope way" and go to roten buro, natural outdoor hot spring. We will head back to Shirakawago, where we will learn how to make traditional wood shoes from the local elderly.

May 5: We will head to Takayama, a traditional town in mountains, another UNESCO heritage town with traditional architectures. We will then do "hanami (picnic under the tree of cherry blossom)", drive back to Nagoya, and catch a night bus to go back to Tokyo.

May 6: Arrival in Tokyo early in the morning, and we will (hopefully) get some rest in Tokyo before we head to Ohira, my hometown. There, we will visit a local primary school. Japanese schools are awesome, especially the way they are organized and managed. I’m sure that this experience will blow your mind in many ways! I am arranging some interaction sessions with kids, and have kyushoku (school lunch) with them. You can also participate in some activities like cleaning, which actually is quite fun. After visiting school, we will do cycling in my village. we will head to Ohira-san, a mountain with some shrines and temples. It is actually super nice. We will then be picked up by local host families, and experience a Japanese family life for a night.

May 7: My dad will take you to his dojo, and you will have a chance to practice kyudo, the Japanese traditional archery. My dad and his friends will wear traditional outfit to do some demonstration for you. You will also meet with local kids practicing kendo and judo. After that, we will go to a nearby mountain and pick up some wild vegetables. We will then all cook together, and enjoy nagashi-somen (Japanese noodle. You have to catch running noodle in running water with chopsticks :D), and head back to Tokyo, and visit Roppongi Hills, and have a few hours of free time. Roppongi Hills is one of the most fashionable buildings in Japan, and you can enjoy both shopping and window shopping. There is also a very good modern art museum. Then we will head to nearby Tokyo Midtown, another cool place to be. This is also one of the places where you can find a chic supermarket and find a mango which costs USD 70. In early evening, we will throw ourselves in the madness of Shibuya, the Mecca of Japanese high school girls. You will cross the busiest crossing in the world, and walk around to explore interesting people. We will explore depa chika of Shibuya Station, i.e., foodie’s paradise. Shibuya also has many cool bars, so we will do bar-hopping, then go clubbing. When you are tired, you can go to one of the manga café, a manga library with comfortable chairs and hot shower (!!!) and sleep there. Alternatively, you can stay in a hostel in Tokyo.

May 8: I will organize a huge picnic at Yoyogi Park (just an FYI, I organize a picnic there every time I go home to catch up with friends. Usually 200 people attend!!). We will party at the park, eat Japanese food and drink sake. You will also meet my friends who are all friendly, hilarious, diverse and awesome. During the picnic, you can walk around the fashionable Harajuku Area (Gwen Stefani sings about Harajuku and “Harajuku Girls”) and Meiji Jingu Shrine, where you will probably witness a traditional wedding. My friends will be happy to show you around. We will move to an izakaya and have a nomikai (drinking party) with some of my friends in the evening. We will also go to the top of Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building to see the night view of the city.

May 9: Traditional and Modern Tokyo Day. We will first visit Edo Tokyo Museum, and learn about the history of Tokyo. This museum really is so much fun. It is also located very close to Tokyo Sky Tree, the tallest architecture in Japan, which is not really worth entering but quite cool to view from outside. We will then watch sumo in live, and have traditional bento (lunch box) for lunch. After sumo, we will visit the Sensoji Temple and have a few hours of free time in the traditional Asakusa Area. Then we will go for an all-night karaoke. There will be a space for you to take a nap. Alternatively, you can stay in a hostel in Tokyo.

May 10: We will visit Kamakura, which used to be the capital of Japan in the 12th and 13th century. You can see a LARGE and gorgeous statue of Buddha there. After visiting some shinto shrines and old town, we will move to Yokohama. We will go on cruising at night...but this is not a normal boring touristy cruising. We will pass by beautiful Yokohama Bay and the largest industrial areas of Japan.

May 11: Shopping Day in Tokyo. We will do a late morning., and go to Akihabara, the Mecca of otaku (geek) culture. We will stroll around a bit together, and will have a free time for a few hours. This is where you can buy electronics at a very good rate, and there will be English-speaking people who will assist you. We will take a coffee at a Maid Cafe, where you will be served by “kosupure” girls. We have picnic lunch at Ueno Park, and walk to Ameyoko Street, where you can buy pretty much everything from grocery to cheap kimono. My recommendations are 100-yen shop, the Japanese version of one-dollar shop but FAR BETTER, and “Don Quixote.” We will have another few hours of free time for you to shop around. If you want to buys specific things in Tokyo, let me know so that I can take you where you can find them. Group C will head to the airport after enjoying shopping. Group D will head to Shinjuku, and go to the Robot Restaurant for dinner.

May 12: Quiet and Noisy Tokyo. We will first visit Yasukuni Shrine, the very controversial war shrine which is causing political problems in East Asia. This is also a controversial war museum, and I personally think that this is a very good place to learn about complexity of the Japanese history. We will then visit the Imperial Palace, and continue to the Koishikawa Garden, a historical and traditional garden. We will visit the Nezu neighbourhood and then Sugamo, so-called Mecca of the fashionable and energetic elderly people. You can probably ask them about their secret to stay healthy for a long time. At around 5pm, we will head to Koenji, and start getting ready for "Le Petit Dakar à Tokyo" - a one-night-only bar where I will be bar-tending at! We will all meet guests and friends. Let's show how cool the bar culture can be in Africa!

May 13: “Off-the-beaten-track Tokyo.” We will take a train to Okutama Area, where you can see a number of tiny villages in mountains…believe it or not, there is a countryside in Tokyo. We will do some easy walk in the mountains, and visit abandoned villages. These villages are very little known even among the Japanese people. You will literally and extract discover pre-WWII books, furniture, etc.

I had spent close to a week in Bangladesh presenting and participating in the Dhaka Literature Festival in November 2015. After the trip I took a few days off to tour Singapore and Malaysia—both of which I fortunately did not require a visa in advance. My return flight to my hometown, Nairobi, would transit through Istanbul. There was an unavoidable 24-hour layover that the airline would compensate me for in the form of a five-star hotel room during my long wait. I got to Istanbul—exhausted and eager to get to my nice cozy hotel room, shower, and sleep off my jetlag before my long trip to Nairobi.

Airline officials assured me that all I needed to do was get my one-day transit visa for Turkey from a little machine. The first question on the screen read “Are you a citizen of the USA, UK, Germany, France… Chile, South Africa?”

I am a Kenyan citizen.

“Are you holding a valid visa for USA, UK, Germany… Chile, South Africa?”

The next message on the screen read, “Unfortunately you are not eligible for a transit visa.” Just like that, I realized that my Turkey experience would be lived at the airport. I got back to the information counter sad at the realization that a valid Chilean visa was more readily accepted than my Kenyan passport.

I was led to a huge football stadium of a bedroom—filled with other black people, brown people, and some Arabs – those of us passport undesirables. I was shown my makeshift bed, given a pillow and a thin blanket. “You can stay here ’til your flight, tomorrow.”

It made me think of all the indignities I and so many other Africans suffer at the hands of immigration officials.

Today I am smiling....cause I physically can. It's so exciting. It's the little things in life that actually mean the most. Over 2 weeks ago I was diagnosed with a rare but treatable nerve condition that results in facial paralysis "Paralysie faciale a frigore"/"Bell's Palsy." It's been a trip but I am filled with so much gratitude at the moment that I am recovering well.

It all began with what I thought was an earache, then tonsillitis. After taking some antibiotics that are quite similar to penicillin my face started to swell - like Will Smith in Hitch. I called a doctor and was put on treatment for the tonsillitis. He expected the swelling to go down on it's own. 2 days later there was no progress - the doctor came to see me. That's when he had me attempt to do simple actions such as "Close your eye", "Smile"etc- and that's when I realized that even though the message in my brain was saying "close your eye", "smile" etc, nothing was moving on half of my face. Half of my face was completely paralyzed. Of course all this was happening in French. So when he diagnosed me with "Paralysie faciale a frigore" I thought to myself I had had a stroke - cause that's what I looked like. A person with a stroke -drooping face, no control of facial nerves and muscles etc. He saw the look on my face and told me not to worry. It's treatable and will go in a few weeks....A few weeks??? How am I to function without half of my face working?

I had to google what I had in English. Of course it was scary finding Palsy in the English name of this condition. I thought to myself "Palsy" - that must have something to do with my brain. I haven't yet finished book 2 - I think I need my brain to be fully functional to do this. I was worried.

I went to see a neurologist and the diagnosis was confirmed. It gave me some peace of mind because the neurologist confirmed that with immediate treatment, I could be fully functional in 3 weeks. Thus began my daily injections (on my butt en plus,) daily physiotherapy sessions with electroshock therapy to my facial nerves and a whole lot of meds.

I would describe myself as a light to moderate night-time drooler in general - though maybe Wakonyo Kimeria, Hajila Koitoto Kimeria and Phoebe Makhulo might beg to differ. The first few days of Bell's Palsy - I turned into a drool monster. When you can't control half your face, you can't open or close your mouth - or prevent drool from dripping. Eating was an activity I could only undertake in private - it made me remember the difference between the german words "Essen" for when humans eat and "Fressen" for when animals eat. It was not pretty.

One eye couldn't close - ever. You know what is more creepy (or more romantic depending on the setting) than finding someone watching you sleep? Waking up to find yourself watching you sleep- now that is material for a horror movie right there....I would manually close the eye using my fingers then wake up again a few hours later to find my eye wide open.

Smiling - I smiled like the joker. My mouth would completely go to one side.

Brushing my teeth -the bathroom floor would become a swimming pool.

So many moments during the past few weeks made me laugh. Sometimes you have to laugh - cause things can always be worse....and I always believe that having a positive attitude about things never hurts. Of course thinking positive will not fix everything, but negativity is definitely not your friend..

That day when I urgently needed to get to my neurologist appointment and I told the cab guy to take me to "Clinique du cap" but because my speech was affected by the palsy, I could only say "Clinique du caf"....He pretended he knew where that was. Halfway there, he asks for my phone (because he has no credit), but needs to call another driver for directions. He calls and asks for "Clinique to CAF" and i'm telling him "Not CAF", "CAP"...but of course I have no Ps.....so he says, "Yes, Clinique du CAF"....and I'm there in the backseat feeling like crying out of frustration...Like really.....The letters I had to lose with this issue were the ones needed to direct me to the hospital? We were late for my appointment - and I had to wait in the reception for 2 hours till the doc got back from his lunch break.

That moment I told Mou Na I was going on a tinder date and she was making fun of me, "Meme si tu es malade tu chasse toujours des hommes Senegalais"/"Even when you are sick, you are hunting after our Senegalese men"....and I wanted to tell her the hunting equivalent of "Mficha uchi hazai"/"One who hides their nakedness won't give birth" or "Mchaguo jembe si mkulima"/"He who chooses a hoe, is not the real farmer"/"You should work with what you have.....even if that's half a face............Yes. It was a good tinder date too.

Or the first day of physio when I was given a list with exercises I need to do daily and I could only recognize words such as nose, eyebrows, teeth etc....I learnt a lot of French that day ''Pucker your lips","Puff up your cheeks", "Frown", "Flare your nostrils" etc.

Or the evenings when I am doing my facial exercises (including blowing 30 kisses) and i'm sitting by the huge mirror next to the window....and the gardien is patrolling - likely wondering why I am blowing kisses.

Or the daily physio sessions where your face gets hooked to sensors - and you're feeling all G'd up like 50 cent in "Go go go shorty...It's your birthday"....Yeah...maybe it was his chest and in this case it's my face...small difference. So there I am like 50 hooked to the machine that literally shocks your facial nerves. In the beginning the sensation is exactly like when you were a dumb kid and you went sticking a fork or knife into a socket - only to be left on the floor having been pigwad a good shock. What were we even trying to plug in at that point? Not like we had phones or anything? It must have been something silly - that we were not even supposed to be using - iron box, kettle....Anyway yeah, so the machine shocks your facial nerves...It's a strange sensation at first, but after a few minutes I could not stop laughing..I think it somehow tickles your brain. I was telling myself "Shhhh Ciku. Now people in the hospital think you are OFFICIALLY mad."

Or having to chew gum throughout - it helps..Feeling like such a naughty teenager. I don't know if there is a way to chew gum as an adult and not look frivolous.

I did that African thing where I didn't want to tell everyone I was unwell because things always sound much worse to family when they are far. Then my brother Tony Kimeria calls me last week and I knew I had been outed...Then he tells me my other brother William Kimeria had the same exact issue in 1998 but of course, he also never told my mum or the rest of the family because he didn't want to worry her. The weight of secrets:-) It was good though talking to my brother and hearing about his experience and his recovery. I had never ever heard of this condition till I got it...

I know you're wondering - did the thought that I had been jujud ever cross my mind? Of course - I would not be a real African if I did not give that some consideration. It has to cross your mind when you wake up and your mouth is completely facing one side....I had also been warned that West African juju is stronger than East African juju. I ruled it out though. I've not wronged anyone in Senegal for them to go and tell the jujuman to cast a spell on me.

I got so many lessons from this whole experience. I think one of the largest that I can apply to life is about self-improvement. We will never ever be perfect. Perfection doesn't exist - in anything we do in life, but what's important is continued improvement. I got this revelation as I sat by the mirror day in, day out doing my facial exercises. Day 1 of "raise eyebrows" - nothing happens. Day 7 - Nothing happens but there is some twitching....Day 12 - my eyebrow can move - all on it's own!! It was so exciting. If my eyebrows can do push-ups, I can freaking do push-ups too.Salma Ait Hssayene knows doing a full push-up has been one of my physical goals for 2016. If my eyebrow can do it, by hell I can do it too:-)

So what causes Bell's Palsy? It's completely random. When you have chicken pox, the virus remains latent on your nerve cells. In very rare instances - 0.025% chance - the virus can get reactivated leading to the swelling of the 7th cranial nerve close to the base of the ear - that then results in the nerve being blocked and the paralysis of facial activity - it usually affects half of your face.

Still on meds, treatment etc. for the rest of the week but I feel so brand new - and I am able to marvel at the little things....like closing my eye, raising my eyebrows, eating in public....and smiling.....

So today I am going to smile at everyone and at everything - mosquitoes, strangers, trees,my own reflection.....cause I can smile.

I fell off a running horse today. I should start by saying I'm 100% ok..My lipstick didn't even smudge - Mac is the 8th wonder of the world.

I was always afraid of falling off a horse. You know that's how Don Draper's dad died. I think he fell off a horse and it kicked him in the face. Mine was less dramatic than that.

I think what happened is that my horse - Oasis - has been watching Usain Bolt and was inspired. We were three riders - Aurelien Chu who is an expert rider. Mou Na who is also a novice like me, but loves speed. Me who has ridden a few times but only with very calm horses that rarely/never gallop.

We start off, it's lovely - Aurelien is galloping, me and Mouna are mostly strolling or trotting.i see signs very early that my horse is an overachieving leader - never a follower. Oasis wants to be ahead of everyone while me I'm ok with staying close to the reassuring presence of the guide. By the ocean, she wants to run in and play around. I can appreciate that - I'm a water baby too..

Then the excitement begins. Mouna wants to go fast but her horse (my horse's twin) will only gallop for 5 seconds then chill. My horse on the other hand wants to go for gold. Every time anyone gives the call for their horse to run, it's my horse that goes off running. At first I'm freaked out by the speed - then I start to enjoy the adrenaline. I learn to lean forward when she's galloping and really squeeze my thighs hard so that you don't lose balance. We are at an ok rhythm - she gives me that nice adrenaline rush but when i kanyaga brakes, she stops. Everytime Mouna or Aurelien tell their horse to run, it's Oasis who runs fast.

Women, they never tell you. Wear a sports bra for horse riding. The ladies had long escaped from their prison.

Then we are galloping and she decided she has to be number one. So me I'm kanyagaing brakes telling her number last is ok. She wasn't having any of that. Now she's trying to overtake Aurelien's horse - sibling rivalry has already made her pass Mouna's horse. She's flying (at least that's what it felt like to my novice self.) She sees Aurelien's horse in the distance and says "bilaz! It can't end like this." Now she's really flying - I'm pulling the reins saying "Arrête! Arrête!" forgetting she's more conversant in wolof than in French. I lose balance and feel myself fall...

Oh my gosh! I've fallen off a running horse. I roll as far as I can - I don't want her to land on me! Turns out I have no need to worry, Oasis didn't even look back.. I thought we were friends! I petted you before the ride. The guide saying "Elle aime les câlins"/"she loves cuddling"…Me too! We have some sort of sisterhood!

Naaa aaah - this girl went for gold:-) Are you ok? Yeah - except my ass really hurts. I landed on it - which is a good thing.... Many worse ways to fall. I stand up ...hold up! What is that noise in my ear? VOK? Turuuuuuruiiiiii turuuuuuruiiiiii

.. Why do they sound so far? I fall on my ass again... .i momentarily remember there a major connection between balance and your ears.. After a few minutes I'm ok to stand up, get back on Oasis and finish the ride - with the guide holding her reins..

Oasis you're cool - we cuddled and took a selfie and all after that, but please don't judge me next time when I take Mouna's horse. It's not you.

This time of year, when you take a walk in the streets of Dakar—the capital city of Senegal, that is 92%-95% Muslim in one of the hottest parts of the world, you stumble upon decorated snowmen, Christmas trees with cotton snowballs, traditional masks covered in Christmas lights. It lifts your spirits and gives you hope the end of the world might not be as near as it seems.

The other day I told someone here I love the religious tolerance in Senegal. They told me it’s not “religious tolerance” but “solidarity.” I love that.

I’ve always been uncomfortable with the term “tolerance.” Something about it inherently means there is something wrong about the other—that it has to be “tolerated.” It’s like how you have to tolerate your kleptomaniac friend or your hypochondriac relative. The word ‘tolerance’ gives us the feeling that we are somehow more superior in some way, but graceful enough to not detest our object of tolerance—even though we feel we have every right to.

Teranga—that’s the cornerstone of Senegalese society. Senegalese people are known to be extremely warm and welcoming to each other and to strangers. It is something they highly value as a society. In addition to that, they respect other people’s cultures and way of life even if it’s contrary to theirs. In the streets of Dakar, you will see women in small shorts or mini-skirts alongside other women in Hijab. No one will bat an eyelid. Your way of life will be respected and in turn you should also respect their way of life.